Giant’s Shoulders #34: The Existentialist Edition

First off, my apologies in the delay in publishing this edition. As I mentioned on Twitter, I’ve been ill and pretty much bedridden; and unlike the wonderful Sasha, my two dogs Lucy and Gizmo are too lazy and would rather curl up and sleep beside me than take upon my duties.

A few weeks ago, the Science and Culture Working Group at the University of Toronto hosted an informal discussion and dinner session with Steven Shapin. The Working Group meets once a month to read and discuss any relevant topics relating to the role of science and culture; for this particular meeting, we joined Professor Shapin in discussing the role of academia the ivory tower, branching out from his The Scientific Life: A Moral History of a Late Modern Vocation.What was expected to be a discussion about the book or Shapin’s latest works, or even the history of “the ivory tower,” became a conversation that partly grounded itself on expressing “woe-is-me” fears about the future of history of science studies, or even humanities itself. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about the merits of the conversation, but merely expressing the fact that lately, it seems that there’s been a lot of concerns about the future of HPS studies in general. Whether or not the decision to close the Wellcome Institute was a warning sign of things to come, or yet another symptom of a long-standing wasting disease, there’s no denying that many of us HPS folks are left pondering about the future and merits of our chosen discipline.

So this edition of Giant’s Shoulders somewhat focuses on what appears to be an existentialist crisis facing HPS. It comes in many forms and in varying degrees. But keep in mind that like many other scholarly discussions, this particular existentialist crisis doesn’t have to be a disheartening or discouraging one—but rather, with full bursts of optimism, such discussions can pave the way to solidify our fears and strengthen our ties as a discipline.

But I’ve never really been a “serious person” and therefore I need to pause here and redirect you all to this video, which, thanks to Michael Barton, made me chuckle for a while.

Now, back to Giant’s Shoulders…

To begin, we must ask, who cares about the history of science? Or more clearly, why should we care about caring about the history of science? Why do we need to emphasize to our universities, departments, students, the importance of studying the history of science? And how, if not why, do we concern ourselves with placing the history of science and science studies within wider social and pedagogical discussions about their place in society? And because I can’t resist—do we now have a new battleground for Science Wars II? Follow and read about the debate here—and hopefully, participate:

Commentary vs Synthesis: Will Thomas’ two posts—here and here–on Alan Shapiro’s 1996 criticism of Simon Schaffer’s 1989 piece “Glass Works” (first discussed in 2009 here), raises the question on how deeply we should evaluate historiography alongside the narrative’s historical significance. Michael Bycroft also remarks in the comments section, so be sure to give those a read.

History of science, we must remember, is always about the people and their places and roles in their cultures and societies. Biographies are always a great read because by providing a vantage point from a single individual or groups of individuals, we are transported to a different time and place, viewing that world through the lens of another. Here’s some posts about individuals in science and history:

A post about Philip Henry Gosse, the man who introduced us to the lovely creatures known as seahorses.

John Harrison’s Hands: a song about a clockmaker that combines 18th century discussions about science with folk art

2011 marks the 100th anniversary of the death of Francis Galton, the “Father of Eugenics” and Charles Darwin’s cousin. There are a number of exhibits–The Galton Collection, the Petrie Museum and UCL Special Collections—marking the centenary of Galton, an often controversial academic, including the unveiling of a recently discovered photograph of Galton on his deathbed.

What would HPS be without our glorious and wondrous books? If you’re looking for a great read to accompany you to the beach on warm(er) days—even if you’re in Toronto, where as of April 17, it’s still snowing—check out these reviews:

A review and yet another review of Holly Tucker’s captivating book, Blood Work: A Tale of Murder and Medicine, tells the true story of the first animal-to-human blood transfusions performed seventeenth century Europe. (Wait—the book was swag for attendees at ScienceOnline? Lucky!)

A review of Peter Burke’s A Social History of Knowledge , which provides new perspectives on the relevance of Karl Marx, Karl Mannheim, Max Weber, Thorstein Veblen, and Robert Merton, as well as later contributors to the sociology of knowledge, such as Peter Berger and Thomas Luckmann.